Between a Rock and a Hard Place
by WandadnaW
Summary: Missing Scene and a Slight Episode Tag for the Third Season Episode “The Fossil Men”


**Between a Rock and a Hard Place**

Missing Scene and a Slight Episode Tag for the Third Season Episode "The Fossil Men"

Like all their missions, everything had started very simply, but then Patterson, manning the hydrophone, had encountered a strange source of sound that he could not identify. Although Patterson had hypothesized that this could be a pack of whales feeding on plankton, Crane, upon listening for himself, had determined that this was not the case but he had not been able to identify the sound either. Crane had known that the hydrophone, part of the sonar system, was working perfectly since all of Seaview's systems had been completely checked after their encounter with the alien heat entity. The extreme heat produced by the entity had affected many of Seaview's systems, and both Crane and Nelson had insisted that all aspects of the boat be examined before Seaview's next mission. Of course, the crew had enjoyed that to some extent since that had allowed them to have an extended shore leave. Well, all except for Crane who had been adamant about monitoring all aspects of the maintenance.

Shortly after his evaluation of the sound and subsequent increase of their depth by thirty fathoms, Crane, standing at the chart table, was joined by Nelson who shared some sea lore that he was reading about the waters that they were surveying. Soon after that, the would-be boring survey mission had developed into a fight to prevent Captain Jacob Wren and his rock men from taking over the Seaview. The mission became anything but boring with the violent bouts of turbulence that had ruptured the stabilizers, damaged the reactor room circuits, and caused a fire in the circuitry room almost destroying Seaview's master control, that first rock man pounding on the Herculite windows in the observation nose, and then Seaman Richards' disappearance and later transformation into a rock creature.

Crane would gladly welcome a truly boring survey mission now: the boat was besieged by rock men whose goal it was to take over the world and he was crawling through the air ducts on his way to the Missile Room in an attempt to disable the missiles the Wren and Richards had programmed to destroy the United States. If the Admiral could distract Wren and Richards, Crane might have a chance to render the missiles and their timers inoperative. As Crane carefully slid through the channel of the ventilation system, he could hear the Admiral, now inside the Missile Room, trying to negotiate with Wren to turn off the timers for the missiles. Wren wanted the Admiral to turn over command of Seaview to Richards, an unqualified seaman, before he would consider turning off the timers. As Crane stopped by the grate to the Missile Room, he made a slight scraping sound. While this alerted the Admiral that he was there, he hoped that Wren had not heard him. The Admiral conceded to Wren, allowing Richards to seemingly guide him through the door to the Missile Room. He paused once he had stepped over the doorway's high ledge, called for Kowalski, and then ran for cover behind the protection of the reinforced steel door.

Wren, even surprised by the destruction of the recently transformed Richards by means of the sonic cannon, was powerful and quick: he grabbed the wheel to the Missile Room door, pulled the door closed despite the Admiral efforts to keep it open, and dogged the hatch, barring the entrance with a nearby bar. Unfortunately, Crane had not yet traversed the Missile Room to the silos when Wren turned as saw him. Crane dashed the remaining distance to the farthest silo and proceeded to open the access panel in an attempt to disable the timer and the missile. Wren barreled toward him and would have hit him had he not used the door to the access panel as a shield. Unfortunately, Crane could not avoid the full force of the second blow: even though he turned enough to protect his head and his chest, he felt the full force of Wren's furry with the impact of the mutant's rock covered fist on his left upper arm. The force of the blow was so great that Crane was knocked to the deck. Wren loomed over him and swung his fist at him again but the nimbler man evaded his attacker and dashed back to complete his efforts to disable the missile. As he rendered that missile inoperative, he looked to his right just before Wren struck him. Stunned, Crane was seized then propelled into the nearby wall. The force of the impact with the bulkhead took his breath away caused the unprotected man to see stars before his eyes. Quickly coming to himself, Crane grabbed a crowbar from the top of the instrument table to his right – this was one time that he was glad that one of his men had neglected to put away all the tools that he had used. Crane began to use the crowbar as a club to hit Wren: one strike, two strikes, three strikes before Wren could immobilize him by forcefully grabbing his by the right arm and then brutally throwing him to the deck.

Crane did not know how long he could keep up his fight with the fossil man. The creature was strong and well protected by his rock exterior. At least the steel crowbar worked as a weapon: the impact of the steel on the rock seemed to cause Wren some pain even if it was slight in comparison to that which the Wren caused the Captain with every blow. Fossil versus flesh – Crane knew how that would end so he had to work rapidly. This was an instance in which his fighting experience and his boxing training was going to pay off – he had to protect his head and chest as best he could while trying to dodge Wren's blows. If Wren managed to strike his head or break his ribs, the fight would most likely be over. No, he would not let that happen – he had to disable the missiles or at least occupy Wren's attention until the Admiral and his men could get into the Missile Room to help him. So, he fought on. He had disabled one missile only to be forcefully thrown against the back bulkhead of the diving chamber. As Wren advanced upon him for another blow, Crane dodged to his left, gripped the crowbar with hands, and struck the creature on its back with as much force as he could generate. He was sore from Wren's many blows and from the force with which the rock man had propelled him into the bulkheads around the Missile Room. He could feel a stickiness on his upper right arm that could be anything from oils from Wren himself to Crane's own blood. Having stunned Wren with his last blow, Crane dashed to the next missile, opened the access panel and began to disable the timer even as Wren advanced menacingly toward him. Wren's blow struck him solidly on the upper right arm forcing him to fall to the deck. At that moment, there was an explosion and the bar that Wren had used to secure the door to the missile room fell away as the door wheel was blown off its axis.

Crane, having been knocked to the deck by the force of the raging creature, feebly tried to raise his right arm to defend himself. The damage caused by Wren's assault was too great and Crane had dropped the crowbar when he fell. The monster was upon him and he could do nothing to defend himself as Wren knelt beside him, preparing to strike his final blow.

Neither noticed as Admiral Nelson followed closely by Chief Sharkey and Seaman Kowalski ran into the Missile room to help the Captain – Wren was too absorbed in the destruction of the injured man and Crane, stunned and in pain from the creature's many blows, was beginning to lose consciousness even as he weakly struggled to evade blow that he knew was yet to come. The Admiral ran to the side of the downed man, grabbed the crowbar that lay at his side and began to strike the rock man just as the Captain lost consciousness. Nelson's first blow struck Wren soundly on the top of his rock covered head, the second blow struck the creature across the chest, and the third blow impacted the right side of the beast with enough force to propel him away from the now unmoving Captain.

With that, Nelson and the Chief ran to the now unmoving man, Nelson discarding the crowbar as he reached Crane's side. Kowalski stood at the ready, sonic cannon aimed at the rock man while Sharkey and Nelson grabbed the semiconscious Captain by his heavily bruised arms, dragging him as gently as they could to the now open doorway. Crane rallied as Wren advanced upon the men. Then, as their attacker neared the missile that Crane had been working to disarm before Wren had knocked him to the deck, there was an explosion. The Admiral and the Chief struggled to maintain their hold on the stunned man while the boat was rocked by the intensity of the blast. Crane stirred and Nelson helped the weakened man to balance himself against the solid doorway while the Chief provided support at his right arm.

Crane seemed to gain strength even as he inquired about the explosion. As the injured man struggled to clear his head and to gain his footing, Wren, ostensibly unaffected by the blast, emerged from behind the missile silos, defiantly proclaiming that his rock men would be coming to help him to take over the Seaview. At that, Kowalski aimed and fired the sonic cannon, destroying the mutated Captain Jacob Wren.

As Crane turned his head to the left and closed his eyes in an effort to avoid flying debris, he wondered why Kowalski had waited so long to use the weapon on the creature. As the Admiral gave the Chief orders to prepare torpedoes in order to close the grotto, the rock men's access to the sea, Crane took a deep breath and leaned back against the supporting wall as his head started to clear. As the Chief moved across the Missile Room toward the torpedo controls, Crane took another deep breath and stepped away from the wall to stand on his feet unsupported. The Captain's plans to direct the closure of the grotto from the Control Room were altered when the room seemed to sway as he was overcome by a wave of dizziness. Then, as he began to collapse, the room seemed to fade around him. The Admiral and Kowalski grabbed him as he started to fall and guided him gently to the deck as Sharkey dashed to the nearby microphone to call sickbay for assistance.

At the Admiral's direction, Chief Sharkey called for help in preparing the torpedoes for launch while the Admiral and Kowalski stayed by the Captain's side. Within minutes, Jamie was by Crane's side checking the Captain and preparing him for transport by stretcher to sickbay even as the Captain regained consciousness. The doctor prepared himself for the argument that he knew was to come as the stunned man moaned and his eyes fluttered open while the Admiral informed the doctor of the beating that the man had endured. The words exchanged between the Admiral and the doctor were incomprehensible to the Captain, his mind fogged as he slowly regained consciousness.

"Jamie, he is most likely severely bruised. You should check him for bruised or cracked ribs and a concussion. He took quite a pounding from Wren – any blows at the hands of a rock man are bound to cause injuries."

Crane drew a hesitant breath in the hopes of clearing the confusion that he felt as he slowly blinked his eyes. "Jamie?" he said as the doctor put his hand on the injured man's chest using just enough force to prevent him from rising.

"How many fingers do you see?" The doctor held up one finger and a thumb forming an L-shape in the Captain's line of vision.

Crane stared at the hand, willing it to come into focus so that he could count the fingers. He blinked slowly as the hand began to take shape and then lose definition again. There seemed to be a lot of fingers. Well, Jamie usually held up two or three fingers – he had a fifty percent probability of choosing the right number of fingers since Jamie was a man of habit.

"Three," he paused and then continued. "Three fingers, right?" he questioned more than stated as he began to roll to his left in an effort to get away from the doctor.

"Stay right where you are, Captain," the doctor said forcefully.

"I don't have," the man paused and blinked his eyes while hoping that the buzzing in his head would clear before he continued, "time for this right now. We have to close the grotto."

"The Admiral and the Chief are taking care of that. I am going to take care of you."

"Stay where you are, Captain. That is an order." the Admiral said. "Like Jamie just said, we can take care of this. Let the doctor take care of you." With that, the Admiral gave several commands to the Chief before he left to direct their impending attack from the Control Room.

"I'm fine. I do not need Jamie's fussing over me. I have work to do" With that the Captain started to raise his left arm in the direction of the doctor's hand on his chest only to groan in pain and close his eyes, lowering the arm to his side once more.

"Oh yeah, you're fine all right. Now let that be a lesson to you." He paused as he pulled out and turned on his pen light. The Captain, his eyes still closed, was not ready for the brightness of the light as the doctor gently pushed up the right and then the left eyelid to check his pupils' reaction to light. Crane groaned at the intensity of the beam.

"Now, Captain, follow my finger." The doctor held up one finger in front of the man's face.

Crane opened his eyes again and looked in the general direction of the doctor's voice. To the fuzzy face before him, he said, "Jamie, you win. I see lots of fingers – which one do you want me to follow?" Crane's statement was filled with sarcasm prompted by the frustration that he felt at his impending incarceration in sickbay. Then, more forcefully, he continued. "Hmm, maybe you can turn on that damned penlight of yours again and blind me some more!" Having completed his statement, he groaned at the loudness of his voice in his head. "You will be delighted to know that I have a concussion."

"Oh, really? How did you come to that conclusion, Doctor. Crane?" The doctor was becoming irritated by his petulant, soon to be, patient.

"Had enough of them to know by now," he paused and then continued, "and we both know that I just failed your little field test for concussion," Crane replied halfheartedly.

"Be straight with me, Captain. Did Wren hit your the head? This could be serious."

"No, Jamie, he did not hit my head. Any good boxer knows how to protect his head from the blows of his opponent but there are no walls in a boxing ring." With that, he pursed his lips and paused.

"And what is that suppose to mean?" the doctor inquired.

Crane blinked slowly in an effort to bring the doctor's face into focus before he continued. He wanted to be able to read Jamie's expression so that he could gage how soon he might be able to escape the doctor's clutches. But, his vision not clearing, he continued. "Wren threw me around like a rag doll when he was not hitting me. I know that I hit my head when he threw me against either the far wall or the bulkhead of the diving chamber – I saw stars and the force took my breath away."

"Okay, what's up with you? You are never this forthcoming about your injuries. What are you trying to hide?"

The doctor stared at the man, awaiting his reply only to be alarmed as Crane groaned, closed his eyes and slurred "Gonna be sick." The doctor and his corpsman quickly helped the Captain to roll to his left and supported him as he vomited into a container that Kowalski had produced from somewhere. When the intensity of the nausea had passed, they eased the injured man back to the deck and then the doctor dabbed the perspiration from Crane's forehead and wiped his mouth using a moist towelette.

Crane groaned, "See," he paused and slowly opened his eyes before continuing, "Concussion."

"Yes, you are right, Doctor Crane, you do have a concussion. Now, that you have won that round, will you behave so that we can get you to sickbay?" He watched Crane, waiting for the usually argument to continue. Instead, the Captain's eyes slowly closed and his body relaxed as he lost consciousness.

Alarmed at the lack of reply and by the rapidity with which the man lost awareness, the doctor began directing his men to prepare the Captain for transport to the sickbay for treatment. "Okay," he began as he threw his equipment back into his bag. "Kowalski, you and Frank put the Captain on the stretcher and strap him down for the trip to sickbay. Listen to him and watch him carefully in case he becomes nauseous on the way there. We do not want him to aspirate anything if he vomits again." With that, the men went into action, gently moving their captain to the stretcher, putting a blanket over him, and fastening the straps around the man on stretcher to secure him in place. Equipment in hand, the doctor directed the men as they raised the stretcher to carry their injured captain to the sickbay. "All right men, on three: One, two, three." He counted and the men lifted the stretcher. Then, they were on their way through the boat. As they entered the sickbay moments later, they felt the launch of the torpedoes, and they were rocked by the turbulence of the explosion as the torpedoes impacted with wall of the sea mount and the grotto of the rock men was sealed forever. Frank and Kowalski maintained their strong hold of the stretcher and their balance, protecting their captain from further harm. At the direction of the doctor, they gently moved the captain to the center gurney and then stood nearby to help him as directed.

"Frank, cut his shirt off. Kowalski, take off his shoes and pants and cover him with a blanket. Let me know if you find anything extreme." While the men did as he directed, the doctor moved a cart containing various emergency items that he would need closer to the gurney.

"Doc!" Frank exclaimed, "you better take a look at this!" He looked from the man on the gurney, the sleeves of whose shirt he was carefully cutting away, to the doctor who would now tend the severe injuries that he was still uncovering. "Doc, you are not going to like this," he stated.

The doctor pushed the heavily laden cart next to the unmoving form on the gurney. When he looked at the still man who lay before him, he gasped in horror at the sight of the multitude of purple contusions and the accompanying swelling that covered the man's arms, shoulders, and sides. The doctor cleared his throat and muttered under his breath to the man. "No wonder you did not fight me on this. You knew that you could never hide this mess!"

He paused and shook his head before he raised his eyes to speak to the corpsman standing on the other side of the gurney. "Frank, we will need to take some x-rays of his head, shoulders, arms, and chest." The other man nodded, "I will get the portable unit ready and be back in a couple of minutes." With that, he left.

"Kowalski, did you find any major bruising on his legs?" the doctor inquired before he want back to his examination of the injured man.

"There are some smaller bruises on his upper left thigh and right calf. His right knee is a mess – there is a big bruise and a lot of swelling. You better have a look at it. There is also a midsized bruise on his left hip." With that, Kowalski drew back the blanket that covered the Captain's now bare legs so that the doctor could examine the injuries that he had described.

The doctor did a cursory examination of each bruise, spending additional time probing the damage to the hip and knee. "Make sure that Frank x-rays that knee too. It looks like severe bruising but I would like to examine an x-ray to be on the safe side."

"Sure thing, Doc," Kowalski replied.

"Put a cold pack on the knee and loosely wrap it in place until Frank x-rays it. If the x-ray reveals nothing beyond the damage caused by the bruising then we will stick with cold packs and then, if necessary, drain the fluid once I can safely administer an anesthetic. I hope that a cold pack will take care of the swelling. I would rather not have to drain that knee now with all that bruising – it would be far too painful even for him. As it is, he is going to experience a great deal of discomfort during the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours from all these contusions not to mention the concussion." With that, the doctor returned to investigating the injuries on the torso, arms and shoulders. He carefully probed the bruises on his upper and lower arms trying to feel any obvious breaks in the radius, ulna, and humerus.

Pleased not to have found any apparent fractures, he turned his attention to the shoulders. While both shoulders had dark contusions and swelling, he was concerned by the extensive bruising that he found on the right shoulder. He remembered the Admiral's comment about the Captain's being prone and unable to raise his right arm to defend himself when he, the Chief, and Kowalski had entered the Missile Room. "Just great, a subluxation," he said more to himself than to anyone around him.

Kowalski, hearing the comment said, "A sublux what?"

"Vocabulary word of the day for you as a corpsman trainee," the doctor replied. "A subluxation is a partial dislocation of the shoulder. The head of the humerus bone is partially out of the glenoid – the socket. It seems that our rock man pounded on the Captain's shoulder enough to begin to dislodge it from the socket. If you, the Chief, and the Admiral had not arrived when you did, the shoulder would be completely dislocated and there might have been nerve damage. As it is, we can easily put it back in place. There should not be any increased instability in the shoulder since it was barely dislodged – just out of place enough to cause trouble for him with all the bruising and swelling. Definitely not what he needed at the time." He paused and motioned to Kowalski to stand on the opposite side of the examination table. "All right, carefully put your hands here and here," the doctor directed. "Hold him as firmly as you can without causing any further damage to the surrounding bruises and I will put the shoulder back in place."

Kowalski did as he was directed, and the doctor quickly popped the humerus back into place. The doctor smiled and nodded his appreciation. "Good job, Kowalski. We will immobilize his shoulder after I examine the x-rays." He paused, continuing his examination of the man on the table, before he added, "I have no doubt that you will be able to tend to the Skipper if and when he gets himself into trouble on one of his excursions off the boat."

"Come on, Doc," Kowalski protested, "you know that the Skipper never tries to get injured – he looks at it as his job to protect the men and the boat."

"While I know that and he and I have had that argument, among others, many times, I still do not like it. To protect the men and the Seaview best, he must take care of himself," the doctor interjected.

"That may be the way of other commanding officers but that has never been his way. Boy, he is going to feel miserable when he finds out that I had to blast Richards with the sonic cannon." Kowalski looked at the unmoving man on the examination table, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. "No man left behind and every man safe – that is his way." Kowalski shook his head and then turned his gaze back to the doctor who had continued to explore the contusions and swelling on the Captains shoulders.

"Do you think that we could have changed Richards back? You know from being a rock man, I mean."

At Kowalski's inquiry, the doctor paused from his examination of the injured man and raised his gaze to meet Kowalski's eyes. "No, I do not believe that we could have returned Richards to normal. Wren and his rock certainly would not have helped us, and the Admiral, as knowledgeable as he is, does not have any experience with that type of mutation." The doctor paused before he continued, "From the violent tendencies that I observed during the initial transformation, the process seems to affect the personality as well as the body. Even if we had found a way to remove the fossil substance, which I doubt, we would never have been able to restore the Richards that we knew."

The doctor proceeded to probe Crane's ribs. As he began his gentle investigation, the injured man stirred and moaned. Since the man's eyes remained closed, the doctor continued to probe the ribs as he

checked for breakage.

"You know that he is going to eat him up inside that he sent Richards and me out to investigate the sound and the turbulence. He would rather it have been him rather than Richards." Kowalski paused, looking at his Captain and friend. "You had better enlist the Admiral and Mr. Morton to provide lots of distractions for him while he is here." At this, he smiled at the doctor.

Jamieson chuckled. "It is going to take more than one admiral and one executive officer to head off the impending storm. You, Patterson, and Riley will have to be careful as you do your turns as the Captain's steward once he is released. He will not be happy to need help with buttons and bandages."

"Doc, I do not think that it is nice to kick an injured Captain when he is down."

"What is that suppose to mean?" the doctor inquired, giving Kowalski a puzzled look.

"Riley," he replied. "You cannot let Riley serve as the Skipper's steward when he is under the weather. He gets nervous enough when he draws steward duty for the Captain when he is healthy. I would never impose Riley on the Skipper when he is sick or injured – that is when Riley is at his clumsiest."

"Boots, no Riley," came a reply from the man on the examination table.

"What?" exclaimed the doctor. "So you decided to join us did you?" the doctor inquired as he continued his examination of the man's ribs.

"Well, if you would quit," he paused, taking a short, quick breath as the doctor probed a particularly sensitive area, "poking me," he paused again and moaned, opening his eyes to weakly glare at the doctor, "I might not feel so bad." He looked at the doctor for a moment before he closed his eyes again.

"From what I see, Captain, you are going to feel a lot worse before you feel better. Kowalski is going to help you to sit you up so that I can examine your back."

"Not'in new there. Yo'v seen t'all before," he slurred.

"Seriously, Captain, you said yourself that Wren threw you against the bulkheads in the Missile Room. I need to examine your back." He paused to watch the face of his Captain and friend as Kowalski gently slid his arm under Captain's back until the man's head rested against his shoulder and then he began to slowly help him to sit up.

Crane pursed his lips, opened his eyes, and then licked his lips. He moaned and pursed his lips again before looking at the doctor and saying, "Head spinning – gonna be sick." With that, he closed his eyes.

While still supporting Crane with his right arm and shoulder, Kowalski grabbed a plastic container within reach of his left arm, dumped the contents safely on the examination table behind him, and placed the container within reach as he and the doctor carefully supported the Captain into a better sitting position. Frank, having arrived just in time to assist, grabbed the container and held it in place while the man emptied his stomach. When the injured man's nausea subsided, Frank removed the container, placing it on the deck near the head at the back of the sickbay to be dealt with later and grabbed a pitcher of water, a plastic cup, and a smaller container before returning to stand beside the doctor.

Frank poured some water into the plastic cup and held it up the man's lips. "Skipper, do you want to rinse your mouth?" he asked.

Crane slowly opened his eyes and nodded. Frank held the cup to his lips, tilting it just enough to allow the weakened man to be able to get a sufficient sip of water with which to clear some of the unwanted residue from his mouth. When Frank sensed that the man was ready to spit the contents from his mouth, he held up the smaller container. After spitting into the container, Crane gave him a nod of thanks accompanied by a slight smile. Frank put the smaller container near the head as well, scooped some ice chips into another plastic cup, filled a basin with cool water and grabbed two washcloths before returning to the Captain's side. He put both washcloths into the basin and then squeezed out the excess water. The first he used to wipe the Captain's mouth, putting it aside rather than returning it to the basin, and the second he used to wipe the perspiration, brought on by the intense bout of nausea, from the injured man's face and neck. He returned this cloth to the basin, restoring its coolness, again twisting it to remove the excess water, and then gently wiped the man's face and neck again. This completed, he put both cloths into the basin and picked up the cup containing the ice chips.

"Ice chip, sir?" he inquired, as he prepared to slide an ice chip into the Captain's mouth.

Crane nodded an affirmative and parted his lips to allow Frank to put the welcome, soothing piece of cool, solid water into his mouth. Eyes closed, Crane allowed the ice to melt in his mouth, soothing his throat. Frank moved the cup of ice chips to the doctor's treatment cart for easy access.

Frank removed the basin, placing it with the other containers near the head and returned to take Jamieson's place supporting the Captain. Jamieson nodded his approval and thanks to Frank as they exchanged positions.

"All right, Skipper, I am going to check your back and then Frank and Kowalski will help you lie down again." The doctor proceeded to gently examine the purple contusions and accompanying swelling on the man's back. "What a mess!" he seethed, shaking his head in dismay.

Without opening his eyes, Crane slurred, "Y'should see t'other guy."

Even though he could not see his face, Jamieson knew that the man was smiling at the joke. Jamieson knew that this was a sign that Crane, although in a great deal of pain, was alert. From all indications, the concussion was not severe but rather in the mild to somewhat moderate range. He was relieved by the Captain's awareness but he knew that he would have to monitor the Captain's condition for changes, waking him every few hours to perform a variety of neurological tests to check for possible complications. "Very amusing, Skipper."

"Hmm, m'out of t'dog house?" the Captain inquired.

"Dog house?" the physician began to inquire. "Oh no, mister, you are very much IN the dog house and will remain there for several days."

"You like that, K'wolski?" Crane asked. "H'says sickbay's dog house." The injured man started to laugh but then hissed in pain, taking a quick breath and closing his eyes tightly.

"You all right, Skipper?" the seaman inquired, concern in his voice.

"Fine," he paused before continuing, "Shoudn't have laughed – ribs hurt."

"Then don't laugh, Captain," the doctor interjected – it sounded more like a command. "All right, gentlemen, ease him back slowly. And, Captain, let us know if you feel any nausea – they can pause until it passes."

Crane slowly nodded and opened his eyes. "M'all right."

At his affirmation, they proceeded to slowly lower him back to the table without causing any bouts of nausea or intensifying the dizziness that he already felt.

"How are you doing, Skipper? Do you need anything?" the corpsman inquired. He waited for the prone man's soft reply, "M'good," before moving the portable x-ray unit into place.

"All right, Lee," the doctor said gently, "Frank is going to take some x-rays of your arms, your chest, your right knee and your head. While I do not believe that you have any fractures, considering the source of all the battering that you endured, I would rather be safe than sorry. So hold still."

"Not goin' anywhere. L'just rest m'eyes. Sleepy." With that, he closed his eyes and sighed. Moments later, his breathing was slow and rhythmic, having taken on the pattern of one asleep.

"Kowalski, stay by his side. Monitor his respiration and use the finger cuff to get a general idea of his blood pressure. With all that bruising around his upper arm, I do not want to use the regular blood pressure cuff – he is in enough pain already without our causing him more."

"Sure thing, Doc," Kowalski replied. He placed the device on Crane's forefinger and turned it on as he began take the blood pressure and respiration readings, recording them on a small pad for the doctor to examine later.

Crane remained still while Frank took the needed x-rays. When the corpsman left to process the films, Kowalski continued to monitor the Captain. Several minutes later, the doctor examined the data that Kowalski had collected, nodding his approval.

"So far, so good," he stated with a small smile, "Stay with him, Kowalski, and let me know if there are any changes or if he awakens. I am going to examine the x-rays."

"No problem, Doc. I'll take good care of the Skipper." Jamieson, knowing that he would, left the examination area to sit at his desk as he waited for Frank to finish processing the scans. He made notations in the injured man's chart, adding the detailed notes regarding all the contusions and swelling that he had found on the man's body. He commented about the worst of the bruising as well as made remarks about some medications that might be helpful during treatment and others that he knew should be avoided either due to the concussion or the Captain's previously discovered drug-sensitivities. Finally, that completed, he returned to Kowalski to add the latest respiration and blood pressure readings to the chart, knowing that Frank would now have the x-rays ready for him to examine.

As he approached the x-ray light box and turned on the device, Frank entered carrying the processed films. "I think that you are going to be very happy, Doc," the corpsman exclaimed, a broad smile on his face.

"Have you been practicing your x-ray reading again?" the physician queried.

"Just a little – got to stay in practice, you know," he replied.

"You should do more than that – you need to go back and finish medical school. You have the talent and the skill. You would make a great doctor."

"That's what you and the Skipper keep telling me."

"You should listen to us, mister," the doctor interjected before the corpsman could add his usual comment that maybe he would "one of these days." Jamieson hated that almost as much as the Captain did. While they both wanted the best for each and every member of Seaview's crew, they knew that each man had to make his own choices in life. While he understood how much Frank loved his work on Seaview, he still wished that he would complete his studies to become a doctor. Natural aptitude such as his and a flair for dealing with difficult patients should not be wasted. At that, the doctor had to smile and laugh before he added one more comment to the man standing at his side.

"As much as he wants you to return to medical school, I doubt that I would be able to deal with him when he is injured or sick without you. You and Kowalski have a special way of managing him that only Mr. Morton can top."

"See, Doc, you need me," Frank chuckled as he handed Jamieson the x-rays.

Jamieson carefully examined and reexamined each x-ray before releasing a sigh of relief. Frank had been correct: there were no fractures. So, his task for the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours was to monitor the Captain for complications due to the concussion and tend to the contusions and the swelling.

"Kowalski", he called to the man across the room, "you can put a larger ice pack on the right knee and secure it in place. After you have done that, put a pillow under the knee to elevate it a little."

"Doc, shall I put some scrubs on him?" the man queried in reply.

"No, I am going to need access to all the injuries, and moving him around taking off and then putting on scrubs is going to cause him too much pain. Just slip a gown with Velcro closures over him. We can close it in the back when we finally settle him in a bunk. Make sure that you put up the sides of the gurney once you have finished that and tuck a blanket around him – he always feels cold when he is in sickbay."

"Sure thing, Doc." With that, Kowalski began to tend to his Captain. As he gently slipped the gown up the sleeping man's arms, he whispered, "No scrubs, Skipper, and you know what that means – most likely a catheter since you will not be in much shape to move around for the next couple days. I sure am glad that I won't be in here when you wake up to find that thing."

"I heard that, Kowalski," the doctor stated from across the room.

Kowalski sheepishly met the physician's glare and quietly returned to his task without hearing the doctor's muttered "I wish that I would not be here then too." Once Kowalski had completed his task, he instructed him to return to his usual duties and directed Frank to insert a catheter and start an IV to keep Crane hydrated. They would monitor him for twelve hours on the examination table before they settled him in a bunk for the duration of his stay.

Having completed his inspection of the injured man, Jamieson knew that he had better call the Admiral before he, Mr. Morton, or both of them descended upon him in sickbay seeking information about their friend. He called the Control Room and was told that the Admiral was in his cabin discussing the status of Seaview's repairs with Mr. Morton. Not wanting to leave his patient, he called the Admiral's cabin using his private line, knowing that the entire crew was concerned about their Captain's condition. He preferred information about the man's status to be released through formal channels, directly from the Admiral or Mr. Morton, since they seemed to know just how much information to release about the man's condition in order to appease the concerned crew even when he was gravely ill or wounded. After filling them in on all the details of the various injuries as well as the course of treatment, he asked the Admiral to plan some projects with which the Captain could occupy his mind while the physician tended to his body for the next seventy-two hours, allowing the man to be monitored in sickbay. He heard both the Admiral and Mr. Morton chuckle as he asked them to plan sickbay activities for the injured man and surmised that the Admiral had put him on the speaker so that Chip could hear both sides of the conversation.

Not being able to resist, he commented, "I expect that both of you will be visiting as usual especially while he is still unconscious."

"Jamie, what are you complaining for, we watch and you get to take a little nap," the Executive Officer replied, trying to stifle a laugh as he finished but then added, "You know full well that once he gets over the worst of the concussion that he will put up his usual wall of denial of pain and start his escape attempts. We are your only hope to keep him in sickbay for any length of time."

"Not quite, Mr. Morton. He could sedate him," the Admiral replied.

"Not with that concussion, Admiral. As much as I might like to once he starts his campaign for release, I would not chance sedating him so soon after a head injury." He paused and then added, "But, you both know that since we have been through this before. I will thank you now for your help knowing full well that I will be too out of sorts when I finally release him to thank you properly." All three men laughed as the doctor ended the call.

While he understood that he would have to endure the injured man's usual complaints that he could recover better in his own cabin, it was all part of their game: the injured man needed to be monitored as much as he hated it and he would acquiesce, well, at least for a little while. The physician welcomed any plan that would allow the injured, stubborn Captain to recuperate sufficiently before managing to escape the confines of the boat's infirmary. If not for the concussion, he would have sedated him for at least a day if not two but, as he had commented to the Admiral and Mr. Morton, head injuries and sedation were a dangerous mix. He figured that after having to awaken the injured man to perform a variety of neurological tests every few hours, his post concussion headache and the tiredness from lack of sleep would probably keep him quiet for close to thirty if not forty hours. Of course, after that his battle would begin. As much as they disagreed over where the Captain would recover best, he was glad to be able to once again have that argument and he dreaded the day when the Captain's injuries would be too severe for the man to survive.

He put down the pen with which he was again adding notations and data to the injured man's chart, rose from his chair, and walked over to stand beside the examination table on which the man was lying. "You and I are going to discuss your latest disregard for your own health and safety when you are up to it," he groused.

The doctor almost jumped at the whispered reply the followed. "No, we will not."

"Nice to see that you are with us again, Captain." The physician could not help but smile at the man's unexpected reply. "Open your eyes, Skipper," he said as he pulled his penlight from his pocket.

"You have that penlight in your hands, don't you, Jamie," he said without opening his eyes.

"Well, the Crane radar is functioning well. Now open your eyes so that we can get on with your neurological tests." The doctor smiled as the young man opened his eyes. While Jamieson found that the man's pupil reaction was still slow and unequal, the other tests produced no alarming results, and he was glad to see that the Captain's speech was no longer slurred. He also welcomed the Captain's complaint at the moment he became aware of the presence of the catheter. Even the man's weak protestation was a positive indication of his returning self-awareness.

"When you can get off that table unassisted and walk to the head without falling down, the catheter will be removed."

Crane prepared to dissent but then seemed to think better of it and replied, his voice beginning to trail off as he began to fall asleep once more, "I'll rest for a couple hours but then that thing had better be gone."

"A couple of hours – yeah, like that's going to happen. You will be lucky to be able to stand even with help after forty-eight hours. The reply was lost on the youthful leader whose steady breathing indicated that he was now deeply asleep. "Rest, Lee. Let us take care of you for a while."

As he said this, the Admiral entered the sickbay and walked across the room to stand beside the doctor. "Yes, son, we will keep you safe. The grotto is closed, the men are safe, and the Seaview is being repaired. She will be mended long before you are."

The Admiral and the doctor watched the younger man on the gurney for several minutes before he moaned softly, his voice low and weak, "No, lost one, sir. I lost one – my fault – I should have gone out instead of Richards." Then, after gently shaking his head, he opened his eyes and continued, "He was not ready."

Meeting his eyes, the Admiral replied, "He was ready, Lee. Kowalski checked him out. You know that he was ready. Wren's men did not give him a chance. He tried – he came back to Seaview but there was nothing that he or we could do for him. Up to the end, he tried – he paused rather than attacking us outside the Missile Room as Wren had directed. He knew what would happen. He did not want Wren's plan to succeed either."

"But," the sleepy man tried to continue.

"No buts, son. You know that I am right. Richards was glad to serve on Seaview and he, like you, me, or any man aboard, would do anything necessary to protect and to defend the crew, the Seaview, the Country, and the World." The Admiral paused to watch the young man for a moment as understanding of the Admiral's statement registered upon his expressive face and his eyes closed once more.

"Rest, son, Seaview's safe," the Admiral stated to the seemingly sleeping man before him only to be surprised by a whispered reply that he could barely hear.

"Seaview's safe. Seaview's safe."

Then, the Admiral and the physician watched as the Captain's inhalation became slow and regular, indicating that the man was again asleep. Nelson gently touched the fingers of man's hand, being careful to keep his touch light so as not to disturb the sleeping man, noting the IV taped to the back of the hand as well as the bruising that he could see between the IV and sleeve of the infirmary gown.

The doctor noted the stilted movement. "What is wrong with your arm?" he inquired.

Hesitating for a moment and knowing that he had been caught, he replied, "Just a little bruising, nothing serious." He thought about pulling his arm away but decided against it, knowing that the doctor had more than anyone should have to contend with in dealing with the injured man's upcoming protests and subsequent attempts at escape from the boat's infirmary without his adding to them.

Nelson, unbutton the cuff of his shirt and pulled up the sleeve to display his forearm t the doctor. There was a deep bruise but the contusion was far less serious than those that marred the body of the injured man before them.

The doctor gently probed the discoloration but then decided that an icepack would be sufficient treatment for the bruise. "Fine, Admiral," the doctor stated, "but put an cold pack on it tonight and let me take a look again in the morning."

The Admiral indicated his acquiescence by nodding to the doctor before turning his attention back to the peacefully sleeping man. He could not resist chuckling as he thought about taking a picture of the man who, lying there so quietly, looked like his was no more than five or six years old.

So, the monitoring of the Seaview's injured captain continued for thirty hours before the doctor concluded that there would be no ill effects from this latest concussion. Starting with the Admiral, Nelson and Morton kept watch over the young man, reading to him or speaking to him if he became restless. After the doctor's pronouncement that the man would recover without complications, they allowed the now exhausted man to sleep uninterrupted except for periodic vitals checks.

Twenty-four hours later, when Crane finally awoke enough to complain again about the catheter, Jamieson, knowing that the man was not ready to get out of bed unaided, let alone make it across the room to the head without falling down, made a bet with the Captain that he knew that the man could not win, a wager that the Captain's honor would force him keep: the doctor bet the still weak man that he could not get out of bunk unaided and walk the twenty feet from the bunk to the head without calling for help or hitting the deck. The doctor, in an effort to prevent the stubborn man from further injury, was careful to include in his conditions for the venture the proviso that the doctor could catch the man if he wavered even if he had not called for help. If the doctor won the bet then the Captain would have to rest quietly in sickbay for thirty-six more hours, without protest, before he could try again, and if the Captain won then he could leave sickbay to rest in his cabin for the next twenty-four hours and then resume his duties without protest from the doctor after that. The doctor, having seen the condition of the man's knee and planning to drain some of the accumulated fluid from the injured, swollen joint now that he could safely administer a general anesthetic, if needed, and otherwise a local anesthetic to take the edge off the pain that would surely accompany the necessary ministrations, knew that it would not support man's weight should he manage to get out of the bunk. Although he was concerned that Crane might further aggravate his injuries, especially that to his shoulder, in his stubborn attempt to win the wager in order to escape Seaview's infirmary, he counted on Crane's continued dizziness and weakness to force him to concede.

Despite his mild feelings of guilt regarding the seemingly one-sided wager, Jamieson, a fair-minded and honest man, justified the bet to himself in that it was in the best interest of the injured man's health. If Seaview's Captain would not allow himself to recover then the physician felt that he was justified in this subterfuge. Besides, the Captain had to know his own condition since he was enduring the continued weakness and pain. The doctor smiled to himself, his feelings of guilt forgotten, as he realized that this was just part of their game. Crane knew that he would not win the wager, and he was keeping up his end of their usual competition: the Captain would valiantly try to win the wager, but not being up to par, he would acquiesce to rest for the required thirty-six hours before beginning the match anew.

"So, who's idea was this little test, yours, Mr. Morton?" the Captain groused.

"No way, Lee, this is all Jamie's idea." Morton laughed. "You have to admit that he has got you this time."

"No way, Chip. I'm not going to let him win and then have to lie here like a little lamb for the next thirty-six hours. I want this catheter removed and I want out of here, now." Despite his rank, the man who commanded the world's mightiest submarine sounded like a petulant child. Chip chuckled at the thought since Lee reminded him of a little boy even more so now with his hair in its current tousled state.

"Watch it Mr. Morton," he stated with a serious look upon his face. Chip looked down on him from his position standing at the foot of the bunk, his blue eyes meeting Crane's hazel and green-flecked eyes, giving him an innocent look.

Crane's glare softened as he broke eye contact with his second in command, and he turned to frown at the doctor. "All right let's get this show on the road, Jamie," he stated.

"Fine with me," the doctor replied. "Any time you are ready."

At that, Crane who had already found out that moving his injured right arm was not a good idea, levered himself up using his left elbow as he gently moved his injured right leg followed by his left leg over the rail of the bunk. Having done this on many occasions in the past, Crane had not been concerned about getting out of the bunk – he had long since perfected his system. The doctor, having seen a wounded or sick Lee Crane maneuver out of bunks many times in the past was not concerned either. Instead, he watched for the moment that he knew was to come, preparing himself to catch the still weak man before he could cause himself further injury or pain. Crane used his now straight left arm as he inched his way further out from the bunk, his feet almost resting on the cold sickbay floor. Although his bruised ribs and abdomen protested his movements, he managed to further advance toward his goal as he pushed off the mattress, balancing on the rail of the bunk for a moment before grabbing the lower rail of the upper bunk with his left hand to stabilize his position. Although he would not admit it, his gymnastics had cost him a lot: he was dizzy, his chest and ribs ached, his back hurt, and his left arm throbbed from the unwelcome use and abuse. However, he would not give up: he used his hold on the upper rail to slide himself forward until his feet touched the floor and began to bear part of his weight. It was not the cold of the floor that him gasp but the force of his partial weight on the injured limb. The onslaught of this new and his accumulated pain was too much for him and he began to collapse toward the floor despite his hold on the upper bunk rail. But, sensing his distress, his friends were at his sides in an instant, Jamie on his right and Chip on his left, each with one arm around his back providing stabilizing support as the other arm gently lifted his weight off the protesting limb. Jamie took over supporting his back as Chip provided support for his legs: working as one, they quickly eased him back in the bunk without further injury.

"I will give you a couple of hours to rest from your error in judgment, and then I will drain some of that fluid from your knee. From the look on your face, I know that I do not need to charge Chip with the task of keeping you in bed – your attempted jaunt has not only taught you a lesson but also tired you out," he stated and then added, with a smile on his face, "at least for now."

"Don't gloat, Jamie." Crane ground out through clenched teeth, his eyes closed, even while he thought to himself that it had been worth the effort.

"I never gloat, no matter how disagreeable or stubborn my patients may be," the doctor stated. "I'll give you something to take the edge off the pain so that you can rest." With that the doctor moved away to prepare a dose of medication to help the weakened man to relax so that he could get the rest that he needed to recover.

Chip studied the face of his friend as he lay in the bunk. Having seen this expression before, he knew that his comrade was experiencing more pain than he would ever admit to the doctor. He watched as Lee's pained expression eased as the medication that the doctor injected into the IV took affect.

Moments later, the intense pain reduced to a dull ache, Crane opened his eyes to look at the physician who now stood beside his watchful best friend. Meeting the doctor's gaze, he pause and said, "Thank, Jamie." The physician nodded, glad that the man would rest for at least thirty more hours before the negotiations for his escape began again in earnest – it had been worth it. "I'll be good, Jamie," he added as his eyes drifted closed.

"That'll be the day, Captain." The doctor chuckled as the Captain, looking more like a little boy than before, smiled.

"Caught between a rock and a hard place," mumbled Seaview's Captain as he drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Jamieson and Morton exchanged confused looks at the man's words. "What, Skipper?" the physician queried.

Receiving no reply, he again watched the man, knowing that Seaview's sickbay was the Captain's hard place to be but not knowing that Lee Crane considered the doctor to be his rock – his support through the wounds and injuries incurred by his position and his responsibilities to the crew, the Seaview, his Country, and the World. Supporting and defending the Constitution of the United States against foreign and domestic enemies, bearing faith and allegiance to the same, and obeying the orders of the President of the United States and those of officers appointed over him, these were all real to Lee Crane, and the doctor admired his Captain's faith and strength of character.

"Are you staying, Chip?" he directed to the other man.

"For a little while yet and then I have the watch," Morton replied.

So, things settled down for the thirty-six hours dictated by the conditions of the bet. Jamieson drained fluid from the knee twice, each time gently securing a cold pack over the injured joint and elevating the knee with a pillow. The swelling in the knee diminished as the inflammation that had accompanied some of the other contusions decreased as some bruises began to change in color while others began to fade. The Captain rested and began to recover. The next time he was allowed to attempt to leave his bunk, he succeeded. Although tired from the excursion across the sickbay and back as well as his brief shower, he demanded and received scrubs and a robe for his departure to his cabin.

After twenty-four hours resting in his cabin, some of it spent working at his desk with leg propped up on a drawer and cushioned by a pillow, he was finally allowed to return to the Control Room even if it was just for a brief lunch with the Admiral. Crane delighted in the view from Nelson's "front porch" and was overjoyed to be dressed in his uniform once more. The men on duty had barely maintained the appropriate naval decorum while they welcomed their Captain as he slowly walked through the Control Room, displaying only a minor limp.

"Mr, Morton," he began, pausing in his course across the Control Room, "if this is the way the men behave when you have the watch then we will have to make some changes in the chain of command around here," he went on the taunt, all the while keeping a straight face.

"Extra duty all around, Mr. Morton?" Chief Sharkey chimed in, glaring at the men around him.

"Hmm," Morton began.

Some of the faces of the men on watch stared to display looks of concern before Crane, Morton, and Sharkey all began to laugh. The men instantly knew that they had been had.

"Yes, Chief, Cookie made a batch of his large chewy dark chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies and there are enough for every man to have at least two, provided Mr. Morton only eats his share." With that, all the men began to laugh before Crane resumed his route to the nose and Morton cleared his throat. Crane continued to smile – it felt good to be among his men once more.

Coming to Nelson sitting at a table before the great windows, he carefully sat down. Nelson was glad to see that the young man, his friend and son of the heart, was sufficiently recovered to join him for lunch. He knew that the next challenge that he and the doctor were going to have to meet was finding appropriate excuses to keep the young man off his feet until his knee was fully healed. He figured that he could come up with a variety of proposals for Crane to evaluate as well as research tasks that the man could perform for him in books, online, and in the lab. They would make sure that he was fully recovered before he was called to necessary action again.

While they waited for their lunch to be delivered, Nelson, once more, read from the book that had contained legends of the ocean area that they were surveying at the start of their deadly encounter with Wren's rock men. "Then the pounding came, the terrible pounding, as if the heart of Satan himself were beating. An evil hymnal of the rocks as if a band of devils sounded from the deep." After a pause, he added, "And, that's all." With that, he replaced his bookmark and closed the book.**

"I suppose that's what it sounded like to the sailing men three hundred years ago," Crane responded.**

"You know something, Lee," the Admiral added, "they weren't too far wrong." Nelson pivoted in his chair, placed the book on the table before him, and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the edge of the table.**

The men shared several moments of silence, each grateful for the presence of the other, before they began to discuss Seaview's condition and their next mission. Nelson was grateful when Cookie arrived to distract the Captain, even momentarily, from work.

Noting that Mr. O'Brien had relieved Chip of the watch, Nelson caught Morton's eye and gave him a look commanding him to hasten his approach to join them. Knowing Lee as he did and being familiar with the Admiral's and the doctor's plan to ensure that the Captain was fully recovered before he was allowed to resume a full watch, he knew that Crane had directed the topic of discussion toward work and that Nelson needed his help to direct the conversation to other subjects. He chuckled to himself as he approached, trying to decide which was more challenging, keeping Lee in sickbay or trying to keep him from working. He smiled again, just glad that they were all together.

****Note**: The quotes for this exchange between Nelson and Crane are taken directly from the end of the third season episode "The Fossil Men".


End file.
